The Orion Pax Files
by Domenic
Summary: Nothing but the facts on Orion Pax. Pre-Series. UPDATE: Fifty to fifty eight.
1. one to thirty five

Title: The Orion Pax Files

Fandom: Transformers Prime

Summary: Nothing but the facts on Orion Pax. Pre-Series.

A/N: My idea of TFP!Orion, perhaps a different look, more gray. Inspired by the fic "Harmonic Progression" by lyricality on the livejournal tf2007fun community, I highly recommend checking that fic out. Hope you enjoy, please remember to read and review, feedback is always appreciated.

one to thirty-five

1. Orion Pax was not born into the archivist caste.

2. Orion never knew his procreator or progenitor. But he was assigned to a guardian of his caste: dock worker.

3. The first team Orion was ever on comprised of fourteen of his peers, each of the sparklings working together to unload their assigned cargo under the guidance of an overseer. But the overseer's attention would slip, speaking of other duties to attend to. He was very difficult to get ahold of when Orion fell in a storage center, once.

4. Orion's arms had ached horribly that day. He had tried to force his pedes faster so that he could be released of his burden soon. The sparkling had even started to run. Orion had slipped from a great height, and it had been a very bad fall. The sparkling had landed at a very awkward angle, the impact snapping his neck. Orion had waited anxiously, trying to be calm as one of his friends screamed they'd get help. Yet his vents had cycled rapidly, his harsh breathing overwhelming his audio receptors. When one of the dockyard medics had finally come, he tried to thank her, but couldn't find his voice.

5. The overseer had not been replaced, but the oldest sparkling of Orion's team, Dion, had them all meet to hear him map out the best paths to take to the dockyard medics and generally draft their own emergency plan. It was all very reassuring to Orion.

6. Orion loved stories. Whether they were from his guardian or other dock workers sharing high grade Energon, he eagerly listened to them all. And not just orally, but recorded too. Orion had done favors and odd jobs and even traded his rations with the dockyard clerks for datapads from the higher levels, contraband difficult to come by in his home. Elita One gave him the best literature. He'd poured over their myths and facts, their knowledge, their vocabulary, their diction. Orion had taken advantage of the pad's art and writing applications, sketching his fellow dock workers and practicing his spelling and vocabulary and grammar in exercises he typed out.

7. Orion watched the gladitorial feed with the rest of the dock workers, Bout Nights were always a big thing. Some images made the sparkling cringe; others made him cheer. Ultimately the bouts were distant, unreal, and always diverse-neatly breaking up the monotony of the day's work and making everyone in the dockyard so much happier, their enthusiasm infectious to Orion. These warriors took action; they seemed to obey no one but glory.

8. Exhaust fumes from loading and unloading machinery and other dockyard chemicals wafting about required that everyone on the docks had to wear some sort of mask. Either full-form, at the very least least half-form, the most important part to cover was the mouth. The first time Orion had seen a Cybertronian unmasked on the upper levels, he'd stared, then looked away, embarassed: more for them than himself, the other maskless Cybertronian seemed naked somehow. That instinctive gaping and getting used to taking off his own mask were difficult habits to break.

9. Once during a particularly bad cut to resources at the dockyard, Orion fell ill. He was not the only sparkling. The dockyard medic that had repaired his neck had simply made a mass anouncement that the sparklings were not getting enough rations. Rumors said the rations were contaminated worse than usual on top of everything. The overseers sent their regrets, but said there was nothing they could do, they simply did not have the budget to provide more Energon. The dockmasters held their own meeting to organize how much of their share to give to the junior dock workers, knowing they still needed the adults nourished enough to meet the greater quota expected of them. Still, once Orion's guardian gave him her entire share. The sparkling had felt a great mix of gratitude and guilt, the Energon going down rich and unbearably heavy in his chassis.

9. When Orion was a little older, bordering on adolescence, he convinced a few of his friends to help liberate some high grade Energon from an overseer's office. Not just dockyard-manufactured high grade, but _upper level_ high grade. Dion-now a first level dockmaster-refused to go and advised against the entire affair. Orion reassured him that the overseer he'd selected was the ideal candidate, one with a reputation for drunkenness and a poor memory afterward, especially of how much he had consumed, always saying he'd drank less than the actual number of empty containers that showed up. Dion had said that was not the point. Orion had scoffed then, and persisted with his plan.

10. It worked perfectly, as Orion had anticipated, and they'd only taken a little. The high grade was stronger than he'd expected. On a completely different level from what was scraped together in the dockyard. Orion had got hung over, along with the rest of his comrades. Dion had been unsympathetic, making them do their work as usual, doubling it actually. Tripling it in Orion's case. Orion bore it silently-he rather doubted he could withstand the sound of his own voice right now, on top of the usual clatter of the dockyard currently amplified by a million.

11. There was another severe cut to dockyard resources. This time Orion's guardian fell ill. She had never been a young femme when first taking him in. The overseers still gave nothing more, the dockmasters still redistributed the rations, but she did not get better, even when Orion started giving her his own rations three times per week. He was tempted to give them all to her, though he knew how practically unfeasible it was.

12. Orion knew that for all the attempts made by the dockmasters for a fair solution that would serve their entire caste, there had always been thievery among them, scuffles over getting that extra bit of ration. There were rarely casualties, enough sense was retained to know the futility in outright killing each other, as the dockyard still needed their numbers to funciton. Orion had never engaged in it before, not even when tempted by the small ache that had always been in his chassis (the dock workers always subsisted, never thrived) or the fact that when he compared himself to some others, he knew he could take them. Now he had complete incentive.

12. Orion worked with like-minded friends. Some groups formed, and there were short bursts of battle, little wars. Orion's group came away with an extra ration or two. Slowly, his guardian recovered.

13. When Orion had been a small sparkling, after a particularly grueling day or if he had performed particularly well, his guardian would take him to the far pier, where a patch of the night sky could be seen. She taught him how to read the stars, what patterns were particular to Cybertron's location. They would play games, finding new pictures in the sky. Even as he grew into an adolescent, they would still occasionally watch the stars together.

14. When his guardian died due to malfunctioning equipment, Orion did not watch the stars so keenly for the longest time.

15. After the accident-that Orion knew could've been prevented if the overseer caste had invested in better equipment-the young dock worker paid close attention to a peculiar quirk of beaucracy. For he was no longer a juvenile sparkling, but a cycle away from being of legal maturity. There was little point in assigning him a new guardian. To Orion's surprise, the system that had always been so rigid his entire life agreed, and bent ever so slightly to reason. Orion began to wonder how far the system could be pushed.

16. Orion started bartering with the dockyard clerks for more than contraband data pads. He tried not to outright say what he wanted; he showed more of an interest in them, was more polite. Praised them for the work they did, wondered how they could possibly do it every single day-?

17. Orion paid particularly close attention when they showed him hacking. Elita One was the first to do so.

18. Orion worked his way up to a level one dockmaster, then a level two, a level three. One more than Dion, who'd also died in an accident.

19. After Dion's death, Orion settled on a caste he not only wanted, but would attain, or forever strive for until his death: archivist, a respectable caste. A Transition within the caste system was incredibly rare, but there was precedent, even if it was more myth than fact. The only concrete one Orion had heard of was also the most recent, that of a miner becoming a gladiator, and becoming one of the favorites among the dockyard's betting pool. Orion would not strive to be a gladiator though-he wanted to extend his chances of survival, he wanted a high rank, he wanted respectability, and he'd eventually realized that gladiators followed harsher orders than the dock workers. But still, he would add to that precedent in his own way, though it mattered not if it was ever acknowledged by anyone but himself.

20. Orion did his best to continue developing the necessary skills, but knew there was only so much he could do in the dockyard. He needed experience. For that, he needed passable entry-level for skill. To even get within reach, Orion was stumped. Not even physical reach, travel was severely restricted to his caste. Finally Orion concluded he would have to hack into the system and forge documents. He knew he might as well declare himself Prime.

21. Orion observed the politics of the dockyard carefully. There had to be something more here that would get him out of this sector. People he could come to for help, people he could play off, people he could use-Orion ignored the voice in his head. He had to get out, that's all that mattered. This community was filled with nothing but squabbling politicans, others too complacent and weak to protest, more willing to fight each other than the real problem-and he'd been complicit, one of them. But not anymore. He would leave, and that was that.

22. Orion approached Elita One, the dockyard clerk he respected the most, and confessed his goal. She was predictably surprised, but grew considering-a hopeful sign. Elita told him she had a contact at the Iacon Records. When he returned to her again, she told him that her contact might be willing to overlook caste, if Orion had enough skill.

23. Orion took the tests Elita administered to him in place of her Iacon contact. They would work after hours in her station. Orion and Elita confirmed the rumors that they were seeing each other to avoid detection. Better to be seen as fools crossing caste lines than trying for a Transition. The tests were security protocols Orion had to crack, and behind them would be questions on language, government, history, arts, sciences, et cetera.

24. Orion once asked Elita if she had ever wanted to make a Transition, use her contact to enter the archives. She had not told him who her contact was, or explained how she knew him, all questions he had also asked. Elita had silently considered him-but this time she just shrugged, and did not answer.

25. Behind the last test security protocol Orion cracked through was an image of his forged documents, declaring him of the archival caste. Orion could barely breathe.

26. Orion hugged Elita farewell, and for a wild moment wished the rumors had been true. She was intelligent, resourceful, ultimately kind and utterly vital to him in the end. Elita was desirable, even to sparkbond with. But still, Orion did not turn back when he left under secrecy, the cover story being that he had actually been transferred to another dockyard. It had been easy, as Orion had anticipated, to make that drunk overseer sign the necessary records, and leave him to assume it was a transfer he had fully sanctioned, but then forgot while intoxicated again.

27. Orion worked under Elita's contact and his test proctor, Alpha Trion. The old Cybertronian continued to tutor him not only in archival skills, but the politics and etiquette of the Iacon Records. Orion absorbed the information eagerly, gleefully shedding more and more of his dock worker caste day by day.

28. Still Orion struggled to feel comfortable without his mask. The mask would surely indicate his low origin. Alpha Trion always advised him to go without it. Patrons felt more at ease when they could see the archivists' mouths, he said. Orion would please others to secure his new position, no matter what he himself felt. Such concerns and irritations were pointless in the bigger picture.

29. Orion had been anxious about being asked too many questions upon his arrival, but none came his way from other archive workers or the patrons. It dawned on Orion how it never occurred to them that he wasn't born to this caste, that they took his position for granted, that they assumed he had always been one of them.

30. Orion was not one of them either, he realized. He had quickly grown adept at pretending to be one of them, but he could not match what was ingrained in them. No matter. He had not desired another community, but more freedom, a chance at individuality. Orion had wanted the archives, their knowledge, their lore. He had wanted to escape the death and grueling grind of the dockyard, its ultimately docile workers and unfeeling overseers. And he had done so. He should be satisfied.

31. Orion was not satisfied. He was not sleeping either. Kept having dreams of the wire cracking and the load crushing his guardian, broken beyond repair, no point in wasting the resources on her, or so he'd overheard an overseer tell a dockyard medic, and Orion had just...swallowed it, did nothing. Orion woke up with phantom pains in his entire body, as if he'd carried crates instead of files and data pads the day before. He wondered if he was going mad.

32. Instead of sleep, Orion threw himself even more into his work. He could afford to work all hours. If he dozed off, it wasn't like he'd slip and snap his neck in the archives (which had the luxury of railing) or risk the lives of his fellow workers by falling asleep at the controls of a large hauler. His current task was Editorial, a high-ranking responsibility, though one Alpha Trion grumbled about, but Alpha Trion was no longer the only one Orion answered to. Truth be told, Orion did not feel exactly comfortable with Editorial either, but he could not refuse an order in a caste he'd worked toward and actually chosen for himself. So Orion viewed the newsvid files before encrypting or deleting them, depending on the instruction attached. Orion wasn't even really supposed to watch the files, but it was a rule slightly bent at the Iacon Records' particular system, where it was understood that those in Editorial would sneak a peek out of sheer curiousity. (Another crack in bureaucracy the lowborn noticed keenly.) But Orion did more than peek. He actively, critically watched the vid files seized from news offices. Orion exasperatedly wondered why they were even taking them, surely they knew it would all be confiscated by the higher castes and sent to the Iacon Records for sanitization from someone like him, such seditious footage of revolt on the planet and its territories would never be tolerated by the ruling government, so why bother?...

33. Still Orion watched, and knew that what little footage they managed to take paled in comparison to the true extent of what was happening on Cybertron. How many places were there that were truly like his dockyard, even worse off?

34. Orion took to watching the gladiatorial feed again. It was a surreal experience without the noise of the dockyard, the exuberant cries and groans of the other dockworkers, the racuous betting pool going around and the dockyard high grade flowing-inferior, but all they had, and treasured as such. In their absence, in that silence, Orion watched the gladitorial feed as critically as he had watched the newsvid files he'd censored. There was no longer ultimate pleasure; he could see more keenly the death, the death everyone cheered for, only groaning over lost bets; the hesitation in new gladiators before delivering the final blow, the cold mask on veterans as they obeyed the crowd's bloodlust. The gladiators obeyed, too; they took what action was demanded of them. Admittedly it didn't all end in death, some bouts were specialized toward certain objectives, meant to get certain thrills from the audience-but they seemed to deman the finality of death, more often than not.

35. Orion almost turned off the feed, but paused when another gladiator's sword hesitated. Then lowered. It was not a newcomer, but a veteran, the infamous Megatronus. Orion listened, enthralled by the gladiator's loudly vocal and violent refusal as he shouted it to the crowd, to the arena's bosses, the crowd going crazy-Orion stayed transfixed even after the feed was cut off. This Megatronus just censored as well, on the spot. Orion shook himself when he realized that Megatronus was the other precedent of Transition-the miner-turned-gladiator.

_to be continued_


	2. thirty six to forty nine

**Title: Data on Orion Pax**

**Fandom: Transformers Prime**

**Summary: Nothing but the facts on Orion Pax. Pre-Series.**

**A/N: My idea of TFP!Orion, perhaps a different look, more gray. Inspired by the fic "Harmonic Progression" by lyricality on the livejournal tf2007fun community, I highly recommend checking that fic out. Hope you enjoy, please remember to read and review, feedback is always appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers Prime.**

thirty-six to forty-nine

36. One of the advantages Orion deeply enjoyed of the higher caste was their increased maneuverability, though it was unheard of for anyone of their rank going all the way down to the gladitorial Kaon, but down he went. And "unheard of" it would remain, Orion saw no point in advertising where he was off to on one of his rest days (of which he enjoyed a greater number of, another perk for the higher castes). Even from the dockyard, Orion had imagined Kaon would've always been such a foreign place—but it actually reminded the current archivist deeply of his first, lowborn home. There was an ache, a hunger within Orion—to his displeasure, he realized that he did miss the dockyard, even just a little bit. He welcomed Kaon all the more.

37. Though Orion welcomed it, Kaon's denizens regarded him closely. It was then Orion remembered what he looked like—impecabbly clean, he felt as if he kept himself cleaner than most in the Iacon Records given his still very deep, rather frantic anxiety about anyone realizing where he came from. He did look high caste, sticking out in Kaon. But Orion noticed their eyes shift into more puzzlement when they continued to watch his walk, undetered by the dirt he was accumulating. Still, Orion knew he more closely matched their expectations of high caste when he quietly, politely watched from the crowds.

38. If Orion remembered the dockyard's own brand of etiquette correctly, offering to buy Megatronus a drink would hopefully transfer over well enough in Kaon. Like others, the gladiator regarded him closely, but with Orion standing still in front of him, Megatronus favored him with a long, calculating look up and down.

"I know just the place." Megatronus smirked.

"Of course." Orion smiled, demure.

39. Megatronus took him to the most extravagant, expensive tavern in Kaon, and Orion easily paid. They silently waited for their order, brief introductions already made. Orion could not launch into everything he wanted to say to Megatronus, even he could not articulate it all. As Orion started to wonder what he was really doing here, Megatronus watched him closely, eyes alert, though he had started to lean back and lounge in his booth, stretched out, one pede grazing Orion's own. Orion leaned back as well, looking away. This tavern was unlike anything at the dockyard or the higher level bars, a strange mix of them both, of a size and nature roughly in between the two. Orion watched another table play a game, one he'd only seen at his dockyard, never in Iacon. He frowned at one of the player's particularly lousy hands.

"Do you play?"

Orion turned back to Megatronus. The gladiator's brow was furrowed, though his optics were focused on the game at the other table.

The current archivist debated his answer for a second, then nodded. He did not want to spill his entire life history to the warrior, but he would admit to that, at least.

When their drinks arrived, the waiter had to follow them to the other table, where Megatronus had dragged Orion over to join the game.

40. Orion had not played this game in the longest time, and was thoroughly enjoying himself—something, he realized with a jolt, he hadn't felt for a while either. Pleasure, yes, but pure and utter joy? It felt intoxicatingly new. The game eventually narrowed down to Orion and Megatronus. Orion's first game with Megatronus ended in a draw, but it would not be the last. At least one gambler walked away richer, having betted on their tie.

41. "Where does a librarian learn to play like that?" Megatronus asked, amusement clear on his face.

Orion sighed, grudgingly admitting, "The dockyard offers more of an education than one would think."

"Though not that vocabulary, I'd wager."

"You'd be surprised. Dockyard clerks are rather well informed."

42. Orion Pax did not put much stock in the Primes, it had been ages since Cybertron had one after the loss of the Matrix of Leadership—something he didn't really believe in, or the Key to Vector Sigma. Orion had learned that many myths did have a basis in reality, but he found the Primes, the Matrix, the Key and Vector Sigma did not have much going for them. So many conflicting myths, and very few factual records. The existence of the Thirteen Primes were likely, even their Matrix as an artifact symbolizing their leadership. But he saw little use in such things now so dated, other than some entertaiment value, but their influence on governmental policy was surely long gone.

43. For all of Megatronus' insistence on Orion's naivete, the archivist was still surprised that the gladiator held some belief in the Primes and their artifacts. Though in retrospect, the name he took on probably should've been his first clue. Still, Orion continued to believe that name choice was more to do with the ferocity and infamy of the myth of Megatronus Prime. Megatronus paid particular attention to the myth of the Ordeal, explaining that the Matrix of Leadership was hidden in such a way that to look for it meant certain death. To survive the search, one had to succeed, and thus earn Primehood. It all felt rather black-and-white to Orion.

44. After a playful exchange on declaring their intention to duel should their goals ever conflict, Megatronus more seriously offered Orion defense training. More like 'insisted.' Fortunately for all, Orion eagerly accepted. The first thing Megatronus had done was simply order Orion to come at him with everything he had. Orion did, trying to remember the fights he'd gotten into for extra Energon rations back at the dockyard, fights in its tavern that had gotten out of hand and fights he had to sometimes break up as a third level dockmaster. He knew he'd grown rusty since then. Megatronus dodged each of his strikes, then caught his last punch and using the archivist's own momentum, threw him into a wall. Orion was in awe.

"Better than I expected," Megatronus conceded. "The dockyard not all one big happy family, I take it?"

"There were squabbles," was Orion's clipped response.

45. Orion started taking Megatronus up to look for patterns in the stars. The first time, Megatronus was baffled. But he seemed to get into it, eventually.

"There, see? A gladiator losing his arm." Megatronus chuckled.

Orion tried, but could not, though he knew how subjective it all was. How many times had he seen docking equipment in the sky when he'd been a sparkling?

Megatronus laughed again. "I've never done this before."

The awed pleasure in the gladiator's voice made something inexplicably warm within Orion's chassis. Still he murmured softly, "My guardian and I used to do it all the time, back at the docks." Orion's brow furrowed, and he quietly asked Megatronus, "Did you have a guardian, or did you have your procreator and progenitor?"

"I had them, yes, but not for long."

"Accident?" Orion murmured, a tired bitter edge still softening his voice somehow.

"Accident," Megatronus confirmed. "Same with yours?"

"Yes, but I did not pass into another guardian's custody. I assume you did? You said your creators were not with you long."

"I was assigned to one of the older miners after their death."

The conversation faded away as a shooting star flew across the sky, effectively distracting them.

"That was the trail of a missile."

Orion laughed. "Of course."

46. Orion met Soundwave when he was a small slip of a sparkling. Megatronus had explained to him that he was one of the Taken—sparklings ripped off the streets of the lower levels and forced into the gladitorial ranks. Different from those born into the gladiator caste, and Megatronus' own unique situation. Orion had watched Soundwave win against all the other gladiator sparklings, and be 'rewarded' with a bout against Megatronus. Soundwave had put up a good fight, but eventually Megatron had to end it. Orion joined the former miner in the infirmary, observing Megatronus watch over Soundwave's recovery.

"I've been allowed to train him personally," Megatronus said in a tone Orion could not decipher.

47. After a while, Megatronus had Orion demonstrate some combat and defense techniques to Soundwave. The gladiator said it would not only train the sparkling but Orion as well, reinforcing lessons for both of them. Orion soon found that Megatronus was correct again as he practice sparred with the child.

48. Orion began to teach Soundwave other things.

"Question: What is that?"

Soundwave was a very quiet, shy sparkling, rarely speaking. Orion treasured the few words he said, the quirks to his rarely used speech.

"It is a game for you. I will show you how to play."

Orion gave Soundwave the data pad, and showed him the security protocol simulation, and how to hack it. The sparkling brightened when the example was cracked and a sonata from the Iacon Archives' music department played as the prize.

When Orion watched Soundwave tackle a hacking exercise on his own, he was pleased to find how quickly he took to it.

"This has practical purposes too."

The sparkling tilted his head to Orion, curious.

"The secuirty in the arena, for example, can be hacked. But you must be very careful and skilled, should you try it."

Soundwave nodded his head, silently promising Orion.

49. For a time, though Megatronus had tried to hide it, he had been wary of Orion; he could've been a spy for the upper levels. Orion steadily worked to dispel him of the notion, while knowing he could stand to benefit greatly by doing such a thing. He could attract favorable attention from the higher ranks, even the Inquisitors and the Elite Guard, even the Council, perhaps. And yet the action was wholly unthinkable; and Orion realized there were some boundaries that shouldn't be crossed.


	3. fifty to fifty eight

**Title: Data on Orion Pax**

**Fandom: Transformers Prime**

**Summary: Nothing but the facts on Orion Pax. Pre-Series.**

**A/N: My idea of TFP!Orion, perhaps a different look, more gray. Inspired by the fic "Harmonic Progression" by lyricality on the livejournal tf2007fun community, I highly recommend checking that fic out. Hope you enjoy, please remember to read and review, feedback is always appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Transformers Prime.**

50. And so Orion met Ratchet after Megatronus and Soundwave. The physician had come by the archives to research their medical libraries, and Orion assisted him. He found Ratchet to be pleasantly gruff, reminding him of neighbors at the dockyard and folk in Kaon, unlike most in the upper levels. Orion paused at the sentiment, hand frozen over another data pad he would deliver to the physician. Ratchet reminded him of the dockyard. Of Kaon.

Orion gave Ratchet the new data pad, and observed him more closely, knowing he could be wrong...but he could be right, as well.

51. Orion knew Ratchet was getting weary of his close watch. Orion hoped he would crack and let something slip. Orion knew he had been similarly wary of people watching him when he'd first made the Transition. But perhaps Ratchet was just weary of his close watch because it was irritating and tiresome, not because of what could be discovered.

"I knew the archives were under surveillance, but clearly I underestimated the true extent of it," the physician finally snarled, slamming his latest data pad down.

Orion considered, then conceded, "My objective is more personal. And the Gatekeepers already determined you only required minimal surveillance based on your request and record, compared to higher priority targets."

Ratchet snorted. "And what would be considered a higher priority target? Something as obvious as weapons research?"

"Yes, actually."

The physician rolled his optics, then went back to the point. "'Personal,' you said?" Ratchet lounged at his research station, and for a moment, Orion was reminded of Megatronus. "You are rather young-Omon, was it?"

"Orion, actual-oh no, that is not what I meant-not that you are not attractive-I mean, that is to say-"

The physician laughed, and Orion stopped his wildly gesturing hands and his spluttering.

Orion finally took a seat and told Ratchet he had been born a dock worker.

52. Once Ratchet had gotten over his shock, the older Cybertronian quietly admitted to having managed a Transition as well, and Orion's casual fondness solidified into an immediate connection. But he did note that Ratchet never actually said he was from a lower rank...but surely he had been, why else would he have Transitioned, if not to move up? Still, Ratchet never specified that or anything else about his Transition for the longest time, while continuing to visit Orion at the archives.

53. It took Orion forever to convince Ratchet to go down to Kaon and meet Megatronus and Soundwave. He had never bought his older friend's arrogant refusal, sensing there was something else to his reluctance, but never able to identifiy what that was. He noted that Ratchet only yielded when Orion specified they would meet at one of Kaon's taverns, not the gladitorial arena, and that as such Soundwave would not come, Megatronus deemed him too young.

54. Orion was rather amused by how Megatronus and Ratchet riled each other up. Irritatingly so, in both the gladiator's and phyisician's opinions. And both demanded reasons from him. And Orion told them both, "Because you are rather alike, neither one suffering fools." Orion was further amused when comparing the gladiator's and the phyisician's reactions, both essentially calling Orion himself the only fool they allowed.

55. Orion ended up assisting Megatronus in only one speech.

He had been surprised, at first. His friend was not admitting it, but his body language was clear, and Orion confronted that. "You are nervous? You've spoken before-"

"Spur of the moment, all of them!" Megatronus had whispered harshly at Orion without stopping his pacing. Soundwave was finally asleep in the quarters they'd shared, and the hall outside was crowded with drunken merrymaking, an impromptu celebration over a new gladiator's unexpected survival.

"Barley any planning, any 'preparation' just me only saying a few things that had been boiling in my mind forever-but this! _This_! You've made arrangements, organized everything, made announcements, people are coming not for a fight but to hear me speak-!"

"They started to come for that a while ago, once they figured out how outspoken you are," Orion offered, with a lopsided smirk.

"Then I entertain them in a new way now!" Megatronus snapped, frustrated. "And they'll be sorely disappointed this time-"

"Megatronus," Orion's whisper went even quieter, placing an arm on his friend's shoulder. The gladiator finally stopped his pacing. "Nothing has changed. You're still just speaking your mind. It's still just a conversation you're starting."

The gladiator sighed, then grumbled, "That was humiliating."

Orion tilted his head. "It was...endearing." Orion knew he could get away with 'endearing,' if he'd dare said 'sweet,' Megatronus would've decked him. And he would've done it quietly too, so as not to disturb Soundwave.

56. Orion had thought the first pre-scheduled speech Megatronus gave had gone very well, but he found Ratchet on edge about it. Perhaps he should not have essentially forced his friend to watch it.

"Do you not agree with what Megatronus says?"

"With what you believe?" Ratchet shot back. When Orion nodded, Ratchet closed his eyes, grumbling. He finally said, "There's no point in picking a fight with the Council, with the system embedded into our planet's history for generations."

"Our 'Golden Age,'" Orion spat out in a low voice.

Ratchet sighed, took a seat at the table in his apartment. He gestured for Orion to join him, then asked him how did he make his Transition. Orion explained about Elita-One and Alpha Trion, then waited. He knew Ratchet would reciprocate.

57. Orion's explanation was only partially reciprocated. And it had a disclaimer.

"You'll probably hate me for this."

Orion blinked. "We're friends, Ratchet."

"You're an idealistic whelp, Orion. You will judge."

Orion remembered stealing another's ration back at the dockyard. His Editorial work at the Archives. And other things.

"I have no ground to judge you from."

Ratchet just snorted, then began to explain. Partially.

"A...friend, and I, both made the Transition, but our benefactor demanded certain...services, in exchange for the assistance." Elbows on the table, Ratchet rested his chin on his folded hands. "He had his connections at one of the Allspark Wards, and was able to arrange to have mine and my friend's progeny pass into his possession, and the caste that best suited his particular line of business."

"...Were you expecting before?"

"No. Only when our benefactor specifically requested it, did we start the gestation period."

Orion was silent. This time Ratchet watched him. Orion wondered if it was a rarity, or something that happened often in secrecy. There was him, and there was Ratchet; he'd wondered before if others made the Transition but just kept quiet, as they did. Now he wondered if any of those could've been made at the expense of sparklings...

"Did you ever see the child? Name it?" Orion knew he should simply shut up, but his mouth moved of his own accord.

Ratchet didn't shut down, at least. But his voice was not empty as it had been before. "No, I wanted nothing to do with it!" Orion just stared, dazed, as Ratchet slammed a fist into the table, denting it. "For my own survival, my own _advancement_, I had to give up a part of my very body and spark for that...that..."

Ratchet slammed another fist into the table. "Slag it, I may have not been saddled with the responsibility, but I never wanted a damned sparkling! To give a part of myself, to be deprived of even_ that _choice...!"

The physician barked out a laugh. "Ah, but if it wasn't that, it could've been Quota, could've had the System point-blank order me to offer up one more citizen to the workforce!..."

Ratchet let out another soft, bitter chuckle. Orion resisted the urge to take his shoulder. Instinctively, he knew Ratchet wouldn't be as receptive as Megatronus in this context. "Maybe you won't judge me, Orion, but I'm not completely ignorant. I know I've not put one thought to the child's well-being, after I practically sold it to another for my own benefit. And I doubt I will anytime soon. It could be dead by now, for all I know."

"...In the arena?"

Ratchet sneered at Orion. "Naivete suits you better."

Orion softly murmured, "You did not wish to go there, or to meet Soundwave..."

"If not for the fact that you told me he was one of the Taken, Soundwave could very well have been my progeny, or anyone else his age, he's the right age from what you told me-!"

Ratchet stopped, ran a hand down his face. Let out another brittle chuckle.

"...You do not wish to find the child?"

"No." Ratchet's face snapped up to Orion's, eyes cold. "I told you, Orion-I want nothing to do with it. Don't bother looking for it."

58. Still, Orion would occasionally search. But he could find nothing on what little Ratchet gave him, and the physician seemed distinctly determined to forget they ever had that conversation.


End file.
